


Whose Bed

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: Was it a mistake? Sharing a bed?





	Whose Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Чья кровать?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017434) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



The hour late, the only sounds in the house are of the turning of pages of the books Sherlock and I are reading. My eyes drooping close I get out of the chair, close the book and place it on the side table.

          "I'm heading up to my bedroom to sleep. Good night."

All I get for acknowledgment is a nod.

* * *

I wash up, climb the stairs to my bedroom, undress and into my pjs. It's warm so I discard the tops in favor of only wearing the bottoms.

I can hear that Sherlock has gone into his own room but I don't hear the door close.

* * *

Standing by my bed, my eyes glaze over. John, what are you waiting for? You know what you want, what you're afraid of. Why not just go for it? What can happen? He can throw me out, cancel our friendship. But, I need more. I'm tired of beating around it.

With determination in my step, I descend the stairway and I hold still in front of Sherlocks open door.

* * *

He's lying on his stomach on his queen-size bed, face turned to me.  
I hear his soft breathing, see his face in quiet rest.

* * *

I take a deep breath in and out and move to the bed, carefully lying down on my back next to him, trying to avoid touching any part of his body.  
His right arm descends around my waist, his face moves to snuggle into my neck.

          "John," the barest murmur from him.

And he stays in this position.

* * *

I can't believe it! I'm in Sherlock's arms. Well, one arm anyway! He's not chased me away.

Relaxing into the comfort of the mattress I sleep.

* * *

Morning light and I jump up, startled as to where I am.

An arm tightens around me, holding me in the half sitting, half lying position.

          "Don't go. Stay."

          "Can't. I have work."

And pushing his arm away I sit up, go to the bathroom and get dressed.  
All the while, my thoughts confused, happy, scared, all in one.

* * *

Home for dinner and we dance around each other, never looking direct, never saying what's really on our minds.

I'm terrified. Waiting for Sherlock to explode and tell me to leave his flat, to never see him again.

* * *

Dinner is over and he sits in his favorite chair, tea at hand, takes up his book and, that's all. No explosions, no explanations.

I do the same as him, sitting in my chair, book in hand, but reading does not come easy. I sneak peeks at him.

It never happened last night. I dreamt it.

* * *

Finally, I've had it, too tired to read, too worn out mentally, I rise.

* * *

Sherlock looks up at me, stands, placing his book down on the seat, and taking my hand with his he pulls me ahead saying," my bed?" his eyes twinkling, pulling me back from walking up the steps. 

          "No, John. From now on it's our bed," leading me to his bedroom.


End file.
